Fighting The Green
by violentartista
Summary: Neville is the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter is a Slytherin. Both have a destiny to fulfill, but Harry is the one who can't seem to cope.
1. Godric's Hollow: I

**Summary: **Neville is the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter is a Slytherin. Both have a destiny to fulfill, but Harry is the one who can't seem to cope.

**Warnings:** Violence, disturbing imagery, drug use, homosexual situations. I don't think this qualifies anywhere near M in treatment, but I would suggest that if you're under 14 or very sensitive to morbid imagery, not to read this fic. STRONG PG-13

**Spoilers: **Lots of spoilers for minor details of the entire series, major for Deathly Hallows.

**Author's Note: **This is the beginning of the re-write of the original series. You can expect a lot of revision, and some really exciting events that weren't in the original.

Thank you all, for your extremely kind reviews, words of praise and encouragement to continue. It pushed me to keep writing, even when life was very grim. My only apology concerns how long it took to restart the story, but hey, we're all here now, right? I'll be updating once a week at the least, possibly more depending on editing time/homework load. I'm very excited and pleased with the end result of the re-write and I know you will be too. Read, review if you feel up to it, and enjoy the story!

**Fighting The Green**

Godric's Hollow

I

The first few drops of sunlight spilled across Hogwarts, illuminating the tall glass windows and the brilliant green of the quidditch pitch. Fog lifted from the cold ground and embraced Ravenclaw tower in a thick, gray shroud. It was a common sight on Hogwarts as the summer green faded and winter began to carry it's pallid chill; and yet, when the events were measured that had transpired on this seemingly inauspicious day, it was a most uncommon morning indeed.

"He hasn't made a sound for hours," Lily confessed nervously, "Not since-," she could barely say it, even though the danger had long since passed.

The babe in the cradle peered up at the adults fussing over him, his brilliant green eyes landing on his mother.

"Don't worry about it dear," Poppy assured her as she checked over Harry in his crib, "Babies can get quite a shock from seeing that sort of thing, even if their little minds can't process it yet."

Harry stared at her for a long while from his basin. Lily had gone shockingly pale, her fingers pinching the edge of the transfigured bed. Her eyes closed briefly, the images tumbling behind her lids; ones of Voldemort screaming his rage, James vanishing into the early morning mist. Even after she blinked blearily into the light streaming in from Hogwarts' windows, she could still recall the sound of curses being thrown and the frost stiff grass crunching under her feet as she ran.

Poppy retrieved a calming draught from a tray, "Don't worry about a thing dear," Poppy said, handing Lily the potion, "Neither you, nor our little Harry are any worse for wear, frightening though it may have been."

Lily drank the potion down in a quick swallow, and set the empty vial by the other medical supplies in the room.

"The headmaster had this chamber set up especially for you. It's guarded, you're safe and the rest of Ravenclaw tower is well protected," Poppy reminded her, "Get some rest, or take a bath. Either will do you some good."

Lily had made her way over to a blue, overstuffed chair and collapsed into it, letting the velvet sooth her rattled nerves. Her bright red hair that was normally neat and tidy was wild around her face and had a few leaves still stuck in the strands. Her jeans had grass stains up the sides and across the back, and her shirt had never looked so rumpled and gray with dust. She hadn't bathed in two days.

Lily asked, "And what about James?"

Her eyes closed of her own volition until Poppy's voice snapped her awake.

"I'm sure he'll turn up. He certainly wouldn't want you filthy and exhausted for his sake."

Lily wiped the grime from her forehead and sighed, sinking further into the chair,"you're quite right," she said with a ghost of a smile.

Poppy gave Lily a comforting pat on the hand, told her to take a dreamless sleep potion if she felt too anxious to rest, and made her own way out. The door closed behind Poppy, and Lily suddenly found herself alone. She could hear a clock ticking somewhere, perhaps the sound of excited voices down the hall. They blurred into an unsettling dream, filled with darkness, dread and evil serpent eyes. Her eyes snapped open, her body tense. There was a rapping at the door, quiet and hesitant. Her hands had clenched onto the chair as if she were holding on for dear life. Stiffly, she removed them, rubbing her sore wrist as she went to answer it.

"James!" she shouted into the hall.

It wasn't James that stood in front of the door, but a tall dour man. It took her a moment to recognize him, as his face had nearly been concealed by lank black hair.

"Severus?" she breathed in abject surprise.

He stared at her, as though he couldn't quite believe what he saw. It had been years since they had spoken, Lily was at a loss what to say.

"Peter Pettigrew," he uttered stiffly, as though taken aback by the state she was in, "He's been arrested."

Lily was confused, perhaps from exhaustion, but it didn't make sense to her at first. And her childhood friend who'd been so awful for the last few years, who she thought had managed to get himself killed, was standing in front of her door. She absently brushed a leaf from her hair, a sad attempt at straightening up.

"He has?" she said, her voice tiny and small in her throat, "Why?"

"He was a traitor," Severus spat out, "The one who broke the charm."

Lily's jaw tried to work but it didn't. Instead she felt the most awful choking sensation in her throat. It was so inconceivable, it was almost ludicrous. They'd had dinner a few days before! Peter had seemed so sad, so depressed. How many frantic excuses had fluttered through her head, releasing him from any wrong doing, and then the realization thrummed through her head like a dreaded heartbeat.

"No," Lily said, her hands shaking, retreating into her room, "That can't be!"

Severus made no move to come in after her. He stood awkwardly in the doorway, his tall frame leaning to the right. The deep lines on his face hadn't been there before when they'd been in school, either. Perhaps he was exhausted too; it struck her suddenly that she hadn't any idea what he'd been through last night, or the last few years.

"How could he?" she gasped, "How could he even think-!"

"He wasn't thinking," Severus snarled, "Certainly you must recall that thinking wasn't exactly his strong point."

Lily turned to defend Peter out of habit, but her lips thinned in disgust, it was a foolish desire.

"I've only come to say that he-," Severus seemed to pause, as though looking for the proper words, "He may have redeemed himself. In a fashion."

"Did he," she uttered, "And how did he do that?"

"He distracted the Dark Lord," Severus said, "From hitting his mark early."

Lily's eyes widened, "At the house, we had time to scatter."

Under the fringe of black there was a hesitant nod. All of the sudden anger and awful feelings Lily had been harboring melted away. She looked away from her old friend, at the ground. She knew her eyes must be red, tears on the precipice. She didn't want him to see her weeping at the thought that a friend who had double crossed them, had come around. Severus wasn't much for forgiveness; he never had been.

"Did you," she finally uttered in the silence.

"What?" he stuttered.

"Redeem yourself?" she asked, her eyes lifting from the cobblestones.

They regarded one another for a very long time. Here at Hogwarts they weren't order members or death eaters, simply a girl and a boy that had once been friends. Time had not stopped however, the boyish face Lily had remembered had been given up to cruel age, jaded and sardonic with none of the humor remaining. The man standing in front of her might as well be a stranger, as the boy that sat in her room confessing atrocious acts had been, so long ago.

"Lils!" a voice called her, very far away, "Is he with you?"

"No Sirius," Lily said quickly, "James isn't here yet, have you seen him?"

Severus' footsteps clicked loudly on the stone floors, his robes leaving in a flurry of black. Lily shook herself out of the strange daydream she's been in for the past twenty four hours, flinging herself towards the stairs and calling out.

"I'd like us to be friends again," Lily shouted, "If we could."

Severus stopped his hasty retreat, and peered for the briefest of moments through the long curtain of his hair. He turned his head, and vanished down the stairs without another sound.

"Who was that?" Sirius asked, his comforting form arriving next to her, "Was that Snivellus?"

The disbelief in his voice was evident, and it suddenly made Lily feel very sad.

"It's all right," she said, her shoulders slumping, "Dumbledore let him in."

"How would you know!" Sirius demanded, "He could have snuck in here, the nasty snake!"

"Sirius!" Lily shouted her patience snapping, "He helped us, he could have run away or hid, but he helped us. I can't forget that."

Sirius seemed so terribly lost without James and for the second time that night, Lily remembered that she wasn't the only one hurting.

"He's not with you then?" Lily said, "You both went to the Longbottom's."

"We were split up," Sirius said, "The death eaters had already been there, you wouldn't have been able to bear the sight, Lils, I almost couldn't, I swear it."

"What happened?" Lily asked, the fear evident in her voice.

Sirius shook his head, "I don't know. I couldn't tell you if I tried. We won't know a thing for sure until Prongs gets back here."

Sirius' robes were in tatters, his hair untied from it's usual knot, wild and unkempt. Surely the two of them looked like they've been fighting in a jungle, instead of the grassy valley of Godric's Hollow. Lily can recall James thrusting their son into her arms, and directing her to flee. She also clearly remembered Severus darting out of the woods scaring her half to death, making sure she managed to get to Hogwarts. The rest of the night was a blur, her husband alive or dead, the news about Peter from an unusual source. She was unsure of everything now and friends that had seemed constant a few hours ago, were now cast under a veil of suspicion.

"Lils," Sirius said, wiping the tears from her cheeks, "It's all right. We have Harry, it's all right."

Sirius hugs her, and she clings to the assurance he offers her, that he'll find James and bring him home. Lily returns to her rooms and watches Harry in his basin as long as she can, until exhaustion wears down on her and she retires to bed.

When the high afternoon sun spills across Lily's cheeks, she realized Poppy had been there and gone already. There are fresh sheets laying beside her and a calming draught, as well as written directions in Poppy's straight forward script to take a bath and rest before seeing Dumbledore. It's a sensible suggestion, and after checking on Harry, she does as she's told and comes out of the bathroom moderately refreshed. Her hair is still damp, and her clothes still rumpled, but she feels better than she has in days.

But there standing next to the crib, is James.

"James," Lily breathed, "James!"

At first she thought it was a dream, it couldn't possibly be true, but he turned around and rushed to embrace her. They laugh giddily, so joyous to have found one another.

"What in the world happened," Lily asked, her hands threading through his hair, fingers touching his glasses and straightening them out, a habitual action she's never been so happy to perform.

"I'm all right," he said, "There was a scuffle at the Longbottom's."

James looked a bit worse for wear, but he seemed strong and in one piece, smiling at her now.

"Frank and Alice," Lily asked, "Where are they?"

The cheerful reunion is dampened by James shaking his head.

"I-" he breathed deeply, "It's difficult to explain. Frank is dead. Alice is...well. There's not much left of her to be alive."

Lily gasped, "And their baby, Neville?"

"Still alive," James said, "Miraculously. I was near enough that I heard the explosion, the screams. There was nothing I could do, it was just – something out of a fairy story! Neville was in the rubble, I got him out before the death eaters could finish what Voldemort started."

"Voldemort is -" Lily asked, her confusion growing.

"He's dead," James said, "Neville killed him. No one knows how, but he's definitely, certainly dead."

Lily had to sit down after the news, her mind reeling. James leaned in beside her, his head resting on her shoulder.

"It could have been us," he said, finally.

"We had help," Lily admitted, "From unexpected friends."

"Could have been," is all James said, as Lily's breath ruffled his hair.

They had narrowly missed the same fate as the Longbottoms. How much worse would it have been to know one of them survived and the other hadn't, or grimmer still, if they hadn't managed to carry Harry away in time. Despite the awfulness of the situation, Neville had survived, and though the prognosis on Alice was grim, it was perhaps not as terrible as it could have been.

A loud banging noise outside snapped them both out of their revelry. They rushed to the window and saw fireworks, sparklers, numerous noise makers below the tower.

"They're celebrating," James said, and genuinely smiles.

"It really is something to celebrate," Lily said, "A new beginning."

Their nightmare is perhaps, finally over.


	2. Godric's Hollow: II

_**Fighting The Green**_

**Godric's Hollow**

II

The Wizengamot anteroom was an enormous hallway that sat outside of the neatly numbered courts. It was a sparse, arched cavern; there was nothing decorating the stone walls or on the floor, aside from long, uncomfortable benches. Lily had tried sitting on them, but had found standing slightly more tolerable. The air in the room was chilly, and she found her feet and hands were still cold, despite formality dictating that heavy robes, including thick gloves and boots, were to be worn. She had heard from James that the anterooms were designed centuries ago to be purposefully depressing and uncomfortable, to allow the guilty parties to dwell on their infractions. It didn't make a lot of sense to her, as innocent parties were in these rooms as much as guilty ones, but wizarding laws were strange and their customs still perplexing after more than a decade of living amongst them.

A massive bell rang throughout, the signal that the proceedings had begun. Soon Lily would be called to the stand. A measured tapping on the cold stone floor alerted her to the approach of another person. James had warned her in advance, that usually both sides of the proceedings awaited in these chambers, a warning that had given her ample reason to be cautious. But it was not the intimidating cowl of a death eater's robe that stood before her, rather the embroidery on an elaborate set of dress robes.

"Good afternoon," the woman said, extending a delicate hand, "You must be Lily Potter."

Lily nodded once, reaching her hand out in return. The woman looked young, her wide gray eyes set far apart on her face. They were large and luminous, quite child-like in appearance. She wore long blond hair in doll like curls that draped over her shoulders and around her robes, which were gray embroidered with crests. Lily had seen the crest before but she couldn't quite place where, until some of the events of the last few days slid into place. She had seen that same crest poking out of a death eater's sleeve, but it had not belonged to the woman standing in front of her now.

Lily snatched her hand back and stood abruptly from the bench.

"So you do remember," the young lady said, "We met at the Wizengamot last year, before Voldemort's defeat."

"Yes," Lily replied, "I do recall. Isabella Nott, it's a pleasure to meet you again."

Isabella laughed, "Oh, don't be a liar. I'm no happier to see you, than you are to see me. In fact, I sincerely wish we could dispense with this whole unfortunate business of your husband against mine."

Many of the worst crimes during the war were suspected to be the doings of Hadrian Nott and his lovely young wife, although the Aurors had found some difficulty in gathering useable evidence. The Notts were both awful people, although if Lily recalled from the few times she had gone with James, the last time Hadrian Nott had been sitting in his seat in the Wizangamot he had appeared quite old and frail. Lily had to wonder, just how young Isabella had been when the much older Nott had married her.

"Then we have one wish in common," Lily said, "one alone."

"Mrs. Potter, I don't think you understand," Isabella said, "You're testifying for traitors. Traitors to yourself, and traitors to a cause. What kind of person would do that to anyone they called a friend- would you? Would I? As unfortunate as your bloodline is, I know that we have other things in common, as people of honour."

As Isabella spoke, Lily couldn't help but realise that she had thought some of the same things herself. Her questions of Severus' motives; more shockingly, of Peter's supposed betrayal and what had led him to it. She was unsure how she felt on the matter even now, waiting her chance to help them escape a miserable sentence in Azkaban.

"There is a hidden door," Isabella continued, "It's under the fourth arch, only the oldest families know about it of course, it was meant to allow those who wished to find their justice elsewhere to leave without incident. I urge you to consider this particular choice, you gain nothing lending help to individuals who have a nasty habit of turning around and biting the very hand that feeds them. You stand to lose much more, if you persist in foolish acts of faith."

Isabella stood before Lily with a sense of utmost confidence. This was Isabella's hidden strength, Lily surmised. Although magic and spells were impossible to use in the anteroom, this was an entirely other kind of magic that didn't require wands or latin phrases. Under the beauty and noble manners, was a truly wicked person who wished only to do harm, and was quite willing to use their charms to achieve those ends.

She supposed that to those with lesser characters, it would have been a devastating attack but Lily had only been moved for a moment of self doubt, and now stood firm.

"If we're so alike, then you must know that my choices are my own," Lily said, "And any choice I make has nothing to do with petty ideals and fear mongering."

Isabella advanced on Lily, her diminuitive form suddenly rendered less child-like and more sinister. They weren't quite face to face, Isabella was a bit shorter, her blond bangs not even reaching Lily's nose.

"Those once in power," Isabella said, "Will be in power again. You may gain your pound of flesh from the Dark Lord's most faithful, but I too, shall have mine."

The door was flung open, and the two women faced a stern looking wizard who had entered the antechamber. His robes brushed the floor, and his expression faintly lined.

"Isabella Nott," he said primly, pointed nose held high.

They both paused for a moment, neither wishing to concede to the other, until the intensity of their meeting was forced to dissipate. Isabella curtsied, her stiff dress robes parting enough to expose the layers of lace she wore under it, then she vanished with the wizard through the intimidating door. Lily pensively watched the door for a long time, her thoughts churning.

After many hours, Lily and her somber party of friends returned home after midnight. James slunk into the chair at the kitchen table, as though the life had been sucked out of him. Remus quietly took his place beside him, and Lily on the other side. She rubbed James' shoulders, today had been a difficult day for all of them, but it had become especially trying for him.

They sat around the table as though at a funeral, their countenances equally grim. By a startling series of events, Sirius had been convicted and sentenced to Azkaban.

"How did they manage," James says, "It should have been impossible."

"Malfoy's money had something to do with it," Remus offers, "The whole family has been out for Sirius, every since he was a boy. Narcissa disliked him intently, especially with the ownership of the house being disputed."

"Isabella Nott," Lily said flatly, "Suggested as much to me in the antechamber. I doubt there was anything we could have done, save bowing to their demands."

James snorted derisively, "Like that would ever happen."

"Precisely," Lily confirmed.

Remus stood up, "I'm going to make some tea."

James nodded mutely, and Lily took his hand. Even without Isabella's sway over the court, they had been quite ready to throw any Black they could into Azkaban, while Snape, an unheard of family name, was allowed quite a bit of leniency. Peter hadn't fared much better, although his confessions concerning death eater crimes and his frightened self doubt, may have thrown a scrap of mercy at the feet of his jury.

"What are we going to do about Peter," James asked, waving his hand, "First he likes us, then he hates us, then he decides to throw himself to the dogs."

"I wish he'd make up his mind," Remus said ruefully, "It all gets rather tiresome."

James huffed, a pale imitation of laughter, "He managed to get seven. Sirius has five. Albus says they won't keep them in there for that long, they're bound to be let out on good behaviour in two, three years at most."

"Hadrian Nott managed nine years," Remus said bitterly, "Could the same be said for him?"

Lily only felt a modicum of satisfaction that Hadrian Nott had been convicted and sentenced; the Aurors hadn't done a very thorough investigation, and Lily had some notion that Nott had been present during Frank and Alice's torture.

"It's that evil witch and Malfoy's money that will get him out of there," James snarled, "All those old families are wrapped up in each other, favours owed, all of them half related to the other, it's downright incestuous."

Remus sighed, and places their tea in front of them, "I'm worried about Azkhaban's effect on our friends."

"Peter deserves it," James said.

"That's an evil thing to say," Lily reminded him, "he changed his colours in the end."

Remus took his seat, his expression speculative.

"Did he really?" Remus said, finally.

Lily regarded him with surprise, "Do you think he'd turn his back on us again, after all that?"

"I can't deny I'm biased," Remus said, "Until he revealed himself, all eyes were on me."

"Which was stupid, and I'm sorry," James replied.

"It's all forgiven," Remus said, "I wondered about everyone those days too, Moody's motto became literal."

"But it's all over now," James said, assured, "The Dark Lord is dead, as much as the death eater brigade wants to deny the truth."

"I suppose the question is, what will we do about Peter when he gets out," Remus said, "Who knows who he'll meet in Azkhaban, for that matter, who knows what he'll do after."

"We'll forgive him," Lily insisted, "As he forgave all of us, for not being there for him."

"Lils," James said, his countenance confused, "I don't-"

"It's mercy," Lily said, "He's not made for Azkaban, neither is Sirius for that matter but he's a man of purpose, not a lost boy the way Peter is. Whatever is left of him, we have to help."

They sat in gloomy introspection, Lily watching the bottom of her tea cup. She'd never been one for divination, but if she turned the cup just right, she thought she could see the Grim, it's dark mangy fur bursting from the black tea leaves. Her brow furrowed, and Remus gently took the tea cup from her hands, turning it around.

"Stem to the right," he said, with a sad smile.

The grim was transformed into flowers; the wolfish head changed into heaps of roses, symbols of love and hope.


	3. Godric's Hollow: III

**Fighting The Green_  
_**

Godric's Hollow

III

The winter had been unforgiving, its cold gray presence felt throughout London, and even far into the countryside. The Potter household was nestled in a small muggle village, far enough from Godric's Hollow to feel safe and yet, not far enough to be unfamiliar. Despite the darkness of the night and the freezing bluster of the air, inside the Potter house was warm and cheery.

"Padfoot!" Harry shouted excitedly.

"Goodness," Sirius exclaimed, "you're so big!"

He grabbed Harry in his arms and twirled him around, who squealed with delight.

"Last time I saw you, you were only this tall," Sirius said, putting his hand very low.

"I was not," Harry said, "I've been taller than that for ages."

"I haven't seen you since I was at the hospital," Sirius ascertained, "Surely, that was a million years ago. You'll be riding brooms and chasing girls in no time."

"Girls?" Harry said, scrunching up his face, "Brooms are more fun."

"Just you wait and see," Sirius assures, with a brilliant grin, "This summer, I'll teach you how to ride that new broom we bought you."

"Sirius!" Harry's mum had appeared, "He's not learning how to ride a broom at five years old."

"What's the point in having a kid's broom if he's not going to ride it," Sirius said.

"The one he had as a baby was bad enough," she said in reply.

"It did get rid of that awful vase," Remus helpfully added from the kitchen.

With three marauders on his side, Harry knew his wishes were likely to be granted. Things had always worked like this, three against one; the forces of friends greater than the will of every other force in the universe.

"Can I learn Mum?" Harry said, looking at her imploringly.

Lily regarded him with worry, "I don't know. Wait until the summer, we'll see."

Harry took this as a yes, "Brilliant!" he exclaimed.

"Have something for you," Sirius says, "I managed to swing by Honeydukes."

A paper bag was produced, and Sirius laughed loudly as it was torn open and the contents strewn across the kitchen table. Harry happily began to tear through the candy piles,picking out his favorites. However, before he could enjoy any of them his mother had swooped in and gathered them up.

"Not before bed time," Lily said.

"Let him have a few," Sirius chides, "I haven't seen him in ages."

Sirius rather bereft expression caused Lily to pause.

"Oh, all right," she said, "What do you say, Harry."

"Thank you," he mumbled, before unwrapping a handful and stuffing them in his mouth.

When James arrives home, it's time for Harry to go to bed. Sirius helps settle him down, and convinces James to let him read Harry his story. Harry insists on something exciting, with dragons in it, and Sirius is more than happy to oblige. James listens, amused, as Sirius does all the voices. After quite a few stories, Harry finally manages to quiet down enough to go to sleep.

"That's the best night he's had in ages," James confessed to Sirius, as they're going down the stairs, "Sometimes he gets in these awful moods, downright stroppy. Lily thinks he knows about what's going on, even though we haven't told him a thing."

"He's brilliant that's why," Sirius remarks, "smartest boy there is. "

James laughed, "He knows he's loved, that's for certain. But it's fun to spoil him, isn't it?"

"He deserves it," Sirius says wistfully, "How has Harry been doing, all those years I wasn't around?"

"He's right as rain," James said, "You know, he wouldn't stop talking about your visit. Last time he saw you it was in St Mungo's."

"Right," Sirius said, a darkness had settled in his features, "And before that, only letters."

"He remembered you," James insisted, "Even after all this time."

"Has Peter-," Sirius asked suddenly, "Has he been writing too?"

James nodded, "Like clockwork, twice a month."

Sirius lips thinned and his eyes narrowed, "He deserves to know what he's missing, what he nearly stole."

"It is a rather fitting punishment," Remus said, his calm voice startling them both, "he's become very fond of Harry."

He was at the bottom of the stairs, face bathed in the gloomy light from the window. Remus led them back into the kitchen where they sat wretchedly around the table, the previous cheerful atmosphere dampened considerably. There were many things they had to discuss, and none of them were very pleasant.

James huffed, "I suppose the whole idea is to keep him from doing anything like that again."

"When he manages to be released, yes," Remus said.

Sirius shook his head, "Somehow, you didn't end up in Ravenclaw."

"Or Slytherin," James said.

Remus wore a bemused smile, "He made a mistake, it's only fair."

Sirius seemed very far away, his shoulders slouching and expression grim.

"It was quite a bit of comfort," Sirius said, "Knowing he was locked up in there right beside me along with Bellatrix. I'm not sure who screamed louder, the madwoman or the rat."

"It's all over now," James insisted, clapping Sirius on the back, "It was like trying to argue the moon down from the sky, but we made it."

"They let out Nott too," Sirius commented bitterly, "Did they have to argue for him?"

James snorted, "They certainly had to pay a King's ransom, I can tell you that for a fact."

Remus shook his head, "How does the ministry expect to portray justice when one of the worst perpetrators is set free?"

"That's the problem, isn't it," James said, "The Notts, Malfoys, even the Blacks have always had pockets deep enough to sway bureaucracy in their favor, even when everyone else is against them."

"Lucius Malfoy stopped by for visits regularly," Sirius commented bitterly, "I bet you anything that slimy bastard was the one who arranged Nott's release."

"Whoever has done it," Lily interjected, "There won't be any complaints lodged against them."

She placed a bottle of wine on the dining room table, next to the window. Fog rolled outside the panes, eerily reminiscent of that night in October four years ago. Lily could still feel the panic sometimes nipping at the edges of her mind, just when she was falling asleep. In her nightmares James' utterance, 'It could have been us', played out with a painful finality.

"I've started a campaign," Lily said, "quite a number of witches wish to express their displeasure with the Wizengamot's decisions."

"Couldn't you have waited?" James asked, "The house we're in now isn't safe! As awful as it is to say, Grimmauld Place would be better."

"It won't take more than a year to get it at most," Sirius interrupts, "And there both you and Harry will have a whole magical building to protect you."

"It's going to be four years at the least," Lily sighs, "I may not know everything about wizarding inheritance laws but there isn't a doubt that Narcissa won't contest your claim, Sirius."

"She already has ten estates," Sirius says, crossing his arms, "What's another."

Remus lets out a faint laugh, "If it's yours she'll want it twice as badly. And she's a Black, we're just lucky she didn't try and swipe it under our noses while you were in prison."

"I'll have to thank the barrister for that one," Sirius said.

"He was most discrete," James agrees, "With a little encouragement."

"Neville's parents," Lily said, "his mother in particular, would want us to stand up against the unfairness in the wizangemot."

The somber thoughts quiet all of them, Neville's mother would never recover and they had all been there with the elderly Mrs. Longbottom when the news had been delivered. She hadn't taken it well, and her insistence that Aurors stand guard at her home had been accepted without argument, despite how taxing the effort had been on an already stretched department.

"As an Auror I'm not supposed to say for certain," James said, "But I can tell you this; half the dark wizards think Voldemort is gone for good and the other half think he'll be back any day. It's a bad situation for all of us, there are plenty of awful witches and wizards on both sides."

"It's a risk we're all taking," Remus said, "And why is it so unreasonable that Lily should take it with us."

Sirius snorted, "That's obvious, it's Lils. Without her where would our Prongs be?"

They all laugh and Lily smiles ruefully at James.

"I suppose with you to protect me I shouldn't worry," she said, teasingly.

"And you'd be right," James said, "Your feminist sensibilities can argue against it all they like, you're much better off with a couple of strapping young wizards around."

"Pardon me, Mr. prefect!" Lily scolds, to the laughter of their friends.

"Everyone needs looking after these days," Remus reminds them, "including Aurors."

Another bottle of wine was opened, the liquid spilling into Lily's good crystal glasses, laughter ringing through the room.

"Let's have a toast," Remus suggested, "to happier times."

"To happier times," they echoed.

They had many strange days in the coming weeks, long unforgiving days. The wizarding world was changing and the world that Harry had been born into would already be quite different when he was old enough to go to Hogwarts.

Lily could worry and fret all she liked, but it all came down to her faith that Harry would make the right decisions. Maybe even better decisions than the ones they had all made as children. There would be no Voldemort, no death eaters and no friends that were companions one minute, betrayers the next. Or at least she hoped, her heart wishing that she could save him from all the pain she held in her memories. But there had also been good times, some very wonderful times and it was those she wished to share with Harry more than anything else in the world.

"I hope he's happy," was the lingering thought when she went to bed that night, "I hope he'll always be happy."


	4. Double Teamed: I

**Fighting The Green  
**

Double Teamed

I

Harry Potter knew a lot more than he let on. He perhaps knew a lot more than any average six year old because of his parents. His father did many important things that were sometimes quite dangerous, and his mother, despite being at home most of the time, wrote words that were somehow quite dangerous too. Harry hadn't been told any of this, instead he listened quietly by the staircase that led into the drawing room, sometimes hearing the frantic discussions of adults well into the night. His Uncle Remus would arrive, pale and pinched, and it was safe to say that after he left Harry's mother would be crying upstairs in her room, often for hours. They thought he didn't know and pretended everything was cheerful all the time so as not to frighten him. But Harry wished they'd stop because sometimes, Harry felt frightened and wanted to cry too; although over what he couldn't quite say. He was tired and lonely and bored, and there weren't any children to play with, or at least children that seemed very interesting. They were all muggles, and none of them could come over to his house anyway, because as his father often said they were still in 'grave danger'. Harry understood the meaning of the word grave, and the word danger, but wasn't sure quite how they went together. If you were dead and in a grave, weren't you out of danger? It was a quandary he wasn't certain he'd ever have answered.

Harry pressed his nose onto the window and exhaled a puff of air, turning it foggy. He used his finger to draw an ant, a tree, and a goofy looking smiley face. He grinned a bit at the last one, because it looked like Padfoot, his godfather. He knew Padfoot had been in prison for something he hadn't done, and was still very angry about it. Once in a while, he'd hear them all shouting together downstairs; his father, Moony, Padfoot and his Mum. The shouting had intensified the last few weeks, which usually meant a big decision was going to be made. There had been lots of shouting when Harry was a smaller right before they moved into this house, for example. Harry just hoped they weren't moving again. He had liked the last two houses, and missed his rooms. His current square shaped bedroom wasn't quite the same, and had small windows that weren't very good for drawing pictures. It did however, have one thing about it that he really did like.

"What are you drawing there, Harry?"

"A tree," he said, "An ant, and that right there, is Padfoot."

"Good show! Looks just like him."

Harry turned around and grinned at the skeleton that had come up through the floor. Its strangle limpid eyes stared at him, and its bony arms dangled right through the wood down into a very dark hole. There was no real hole in the ground, Harry had poked at the strange shadows with his foot. His skeleton friend had assured him that it wouldn't make the house fall down, or cause anyone any harm. It was just a lonesome spirit, it said, much like Harry himself. Occasionally, Harry thought that assessment was quite accurate.

"Dad's coming home today!" Harry said excitedly, skipping down the hall.

The specter followed him, loping through the floorboards with its long arms.

"Is that so? Is that why you're so excited?" it asked, with a crooked grin.

"Yeah!," Harry chirped, "I drew him a picture. I hope he likes it."

"He will, I'm sure of it. Why don't you go down and say hello? I can hear someone coming to the door," the skeleton said.

"Really?" Harry said, his eyes growing wide, "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," it said, its watery gaze on him, "pat down your hair, and straighten out your shirt."

Harry did as he was told and nervously twirled around for an assessment.

"Good boy," the skeleton chuckled, "Now go down and meet your father, I'll still be here when you come back."

Of course, Harry's hair was it's usual messy state, and his shirt was terribly rumpled as was the case with most children. His glasses were crooked on his nose, and his bony body looked a bit peaky and underfed, despite that not being the case in the slightest. No one would have guessed that earlier in the year the boy had suffered constant colds, or that he had been in bed for most of the spring due to persistent fevers. From what the skeleton gleaned from snatches of conversation, this was a constant worry to the boy's parents. The skeleton observed his young charge tearing down the stairs excitedly, as though he hadn't a care in the world.

"Poor little blighter," it murmured, before dipping down into the floor and vanishing, "At least if he dies here, I'll finally have some company."

Harry tore down the dark hallway just before the front door. Pictures of his family surrounded him on all sides of the stiff muggle type; mostly of his mum and dad, his uncles and some of Harry when he was very young. Shoes were in a pile by the door, and Harry's drawings had been tacked up on a push pin board above them. It was homey and bright, despite the dank weather and grim windows that let in only the smallest bit of gray light. The door was opening and Harry pushed the knob the rest of the way, despite being told a hundred times not to answer the door when he was alone.

"Dad!" he shouted excitedly, only to be quite disappointed, "Oh, it's only you."

"Only me?" Sirius said, mock offended, "Your favorite godfather?"

"You're my only godfather," Harry reminded him.

"Harry!" Lily chided, having arrived from the drawing room, "That's not very nice!"

"I'm sorry Padfoot," Harry said, wrapping his arms briefly around his long legs, "I was expecting someone else. I love you too."

Sirius took off his coat and hung it up, flinging his shoes in a pile. Harry wish he could fling his shoes the way Padfoot did, his Mum would have shouted at him if he did the same. Sirius was also carrying bags, and on some of them Harry could see Honeydukes distinctive stamp.

"Is Dad coming home?" Harry asked, his eyes still lingering on bags that promised lots of sweets.

Sirius gave Harry a wry smile, "He's managed to get caught up in something quite serious. He'd be here if he could, you know that."

"Yeah," Harry said tentatively, looking down at his sock feet. He wasn't going to cry, really.

"How about after I'm done having a chat with your Mum, we set up a game of exploding snap right on the good dining room table?" Sirius said.

"Really?" Harry asked excitedly, his disappointment temporarily abated, "are there candies in those bags?"

"Might be," Sirius said, with a twinkle in his eye, "Might not be either."

Harry's eyes lit up, chocolate toffees were his favorite. And caramels, and just about anything that was sticky and lingered on the tongue long enough to fill the mouth with a rainbow of flavors. He liked every flavor beans too, but was especially leery of them after accidentally eating an ear wax flavored one.

"Don't eat too many sweets Harry," Lily admonished, "Dinner will be ready soon."

Sirius had ushered Harry into the dining room with the big table that had the curled feet, and had let Harry tear into the various bags with abandon. Harry found toffees, and caramels and of course chocolate frogs and their cards, he chewed through chocolates with gooey centers and spied ever lasting bubblegum in bright green wrapping. Sirius and his mother were discussing things in the kitchen, and Harry pretended to be completely engrossed in his candies so he could listen.

Sirius had begun to murmur in a low voice, "...accident at the Nott place, wasn't his fault, he wasn't even there. A bloke on his team..."

A chocolate frog made a mad dash onto the china cabinet and nearly knocked over a gravy boat, sending Harry tumbling after it. He rescued his mother's china before it met an untimely end, but missed some of the conversation.

"...hearing at the Wizengamot. Old Nott isn't going to let this go, he went spare..."

Harry swallowed several of his toffees at once, and coughed slightly when they got stuck in his throat. He couldn't really hear his mother's voice, she always spoke too low. But he could make out Sirius' reply.

"Oh, come on Lils, it's not like she's going to be missed! It's practically a service to the public!"

"Sirius!" Harry heard his mother shout, "Whether it's what we all think or not, you still shouldn't say it out loud, it's not very nice!"

There were some other quiet murmurs that Harry couldn't hear, then his mother's footsteps heading towards the dining room. Harry tried to appear engrossed in his chocolate frogs, whom he had sent leaping about the chairs in large numbers, leaving frog footprints all over everything.

"You could at least think about that poor little boy losing his Mum!" his mother said to Sirius, before she stared open mouthed at the carnage an entire pile of chocolate frogs could create, "good grief, Harry! What in the world-!"

Sirius spotted the carnage, and then laughed riotously, "Brilliant! I told you Lils, six years old and he's a Maurader already! Hogwarts won't know what hit it in another five!"

Lily huffed, and magicked away the mess with her wand, Harry watched as the chocolate frogs ceased their frantic hopping and stacked themselves neatly back in their boxes.

"That was cool, Mum!" Harry said excitedly, he couldn't wait until he had his own wand, just like his Dad's.

Sirius stacked the Exploding Snap cards on the de-frogged table, shoving the toffee wrappers off to the side. Lily couldn't help but roll her eyes, muttering something about boys not outgrowing their dorm habits.

Sirius sniggered and said to Harry quietly, "It's not like she was ever in the boy's dorm when it was really messy, your Dad had fits trying to get us to clean up the place to impress your Mum."

Harry giggled along with his godfather, wishing sorely that his father were here playing Snap with them, right now. He crammed another toffee into his mouth, the sugar only slightly abating the awful swirling sensation in his stomach. He couldn't say why, but he felt very bad all of a sudden, very sad, despite the candies and congenial atmosphere.

Hours later, after chocolate frogs and dinner and exploding snap had been thoroughly enjoyed, Harry was reading in his pajamas by the window sill. Sirius had gone home, and it was just Harry and his Mum now, and she was usually writing late into the night these last few days. He flipped his picture book about magical creatures, pausing at the unicorn pawing gently at the moss covered ground. It was night time in the picture, and the unicorn looked especially beautiful with its white main and high haunches, glowing softly.

"Are you ready for bed?" his Mum asked him.

"Mm hm," he said distractedly.

"Another half hour, and then it's off to dream land with you," his Mum warned him, before going downstairs.

Harry continued to flip through his book, watching plimpy's and mermen and augrey's go by. The thestrals were the last in the book, their strange black bodies highlighted by the light of a full moon. Harry had never seen a thestral before, most people hadn't because you could only see them if you had seen someone die. Harry suddenly wondered about the little boy his mother was talking about, if he could see thestrals now. It became very cold by the window sill, and the book tumbled from Harry's hands. His arms were shaking, his shoulders began to shudder and he curled up in a tiny ball, his body trembling.

"What's wrong?" the skeleton asked him, coming up from the floor, "Are you all right?"

Harry sniffed, his shoulders shook.

"Do you want me to get your Mum? I'm sure I could make something rattle," it offered.

"N-no," Harry stammered, "I want my-"

His sniffles turned into a quiet sob, tears unabashedly running down his cheeks. He hated that boy and his mother who had died, for taking his father away from him. But he couldn't bear hating someone, who hadn't really done anything wrong.

It was only a few days after the disappointment of his father's absence, that Harry was ushered to the Weasley's because of an emergency errand.

"But I don't know Ronald," Harry had sulked.

His mother wore the expression of the truly harassed. Harry had not been in a pleasant mood since that morning and had fought every step of the way. From being particularly choosy about what to wear, to refusing every breakfast possible, right until his mother had lost her temper and had shouted at him. Harry's reaction naturally, had been that of tears.

"You met when you both were very young," Lily said, "And Neville will be there too. You know him."

"I don't like Neville," Harry said, even though he couldn't recall having ever met him.

"You don't like anyone today," Lily sighed.

"Not really," Harry said.

Lily couldn't help but laugh, a little, "Oh Harry. It's only a day, then you'll be back home."

"I want to stay with Padfoot," Harry said, "Or Moony. When's Dad coming home?"

"Someday you'll understand," Lily said, "We all have very important things to do today, things that you'll be very happy about when you're older."

Harry mumbled, "I'm not happy, now."

Lily embraced Harry suddenly, squeezing the air out of him. Her shoulders shuddered slightly, enough for Harry to understand that he had said something to upset her. Harry wasn't sure what he would do if he'd made his Mum cry, as miserable as he was, it hadn't been his intention.

"I know," she said quietly, petting his hair, "I wish things could be different."

"It's okay mum," he said, clutching her, "I'll be on my best behavior. Promise."

When they had arrived at the Weasley Burrow there were introductions and exclamations, adults and children all foolishly running around in a frantic, excited clamor. It startled Harry terribly, and he hid behind his mother's legs. He was not impressed with the odd looking house, it smelled funny, and was full of magical things and children. This was nothing like the ordered muggle house he was accustomed to.

"Oh," the red headed woman exclaimed, "This must be little Harry!"

Harry peered out from behind his mother's robes. Mrs. Weasley was a very plump, loud woman who cheerfully told Harry he was going to have a wonderful time, despite the scowl on his face. A few older redheads milled about paying him no mind, and he was soon hugging his mother goodbye and being herded out into the backyard. Harry blinked in the bright sunlight. It was a lovely June day, very warm, with only a few fluffy white clouds in the sky.

"Are you a vampire?" a timid voice asked him.

Harry saw the brown haired boy sitting on a large boulder. He was a bit fat, and wore traditional wizarding robes, which looked strange and out of place on such a warm day. Harry was wearing his favorite blue shorts, and a green t-shirt, sensible clothes as his Mum had always said, for summer weather.

"That's silly," said Harry, "everyone knows vampires burn up in the sun. They turn to ashes. If I'm not ashes, then I'm obviously not a vampire."

"Oh," the boy said, "Well, that's good then. I had wondered, you're so pale."

Harry blinked at this strange boy, who hadn't been able to tell the difference from a vampire and an ordinary person. He couldn't help but question if the boy wasn't a bit daft.

"I don't like outdoors," Harry said, scooting into the shade, "It's hot, and there are lots of bugs that like to bite."

"Yeah," the boy agreed eagerly, "I can't stand spiders. Neither can Ron."

Harry glared, "Spiders don't bite. It's flies and mosquitos and things that are awful."

"Oh," the boy said, blinking owlishly, "I'm Neville Longbottom. Who are you?"

"Harry Potter," he said, kicking a clod of dirt, "we were supposed to have met when we were babies after you killed You Know Who. Dad told me all about it a hundred times."

Neville blushed furiously, "I don't know anything about killing anyone it's just what I was told. If I did hurt someone, I didn't mean it!"

"So it was an accident," Harry said, "That makes sense, I suppose. I haven't ever heard of a baby killing anything."

"Because you know everything!" Ron's voice interrupted.

Harry blinked in the light, and observed the red headed boy who had ran from the house. He was thin and his skin flushed with pink, he looked quite annoyed, although over what Harry couldn't quite say. There was no mistaking the boy for anyone else, it must have been Ronald Weasley.

"I don't know everything," Harry shot back, "But I bet I know more than you!"

"Stop it, Ron," Neville said, "And you too, Harry."

"I don't have to listen to you," Harry said, "You're not my mum."

Ron turned a dramatic shade of red, "Neville's the Boy Who Lived! You should pay attention to what he says, he's going to grow up and be a great wizard someday!"

"I am not," Neville said, "Stop saying those things! It only gets me into trouble!"

Harry couldn't help it, he laughed. His father had told him many times about brave Neville and how he had killed the most powerful wizard in the world when he was just a babe. But upon seeing the reality, it was an entirely different story. Neville was painfully ordinary and possibly a bit stupid. It was nothing like the hero his Dad had made him out to be, and Harry felt quite relieved. No wonder his Dad loved him best when Neville and his friend were so foolish by comparison.

"You're both the most ridiculous sight I've ever seen," Harry said.

Ron walked right up to him, his irritation evident in his rapidly reddening cheeks.

"Say that again!" he said, shoving Harry harshly.

Harry stumbled, surprised, he'd never been pushed before. But his father had told him to always stand up for himself against bullies, Harry glared at Ron and shoved him back.

"I said, you look ridiculous," and on an impulse, because Harry's day had been awful and he wanted it to be awful for everyone else too, he added, "And Neville's the biggest coward I've ever met!"

A shoving match began, with both boys trying to overpower the other, their shoes scuffing on the dirt and bodies tumbling in the grass.

"Stop it!" Neville shouted, "You're going to get into trouble!"

"What are you boys doing out here?" Mrs. Weasley shouted.

Harry and Ron both stopped their tumbling, and stood on their feet. Harry had a scraped knee and a grass stain on his shorts, while Ron had bumped elbow and puffy red hair full of sticks and leaves. No serious injuries had been delivered to either party, but Harry was quite out of breath.

"Nothing," Ron said, at the same time as Harry.

"They were fighting!" said Neville.

Harry glared at him, no one liked a snitch.

Molly scolded them both, but no further discipline was undertaken, as a raucous noise was heard from the house. She quickly left as Ron whispered to Neville, 'the twins most likely'. Harry wondered what sort of people made things explode often enough that their own sibling paid it no mind.

"They sound dangerous," Harry said.

Ron just rolled his eyes, "Not really. They're my older brothers, they're not going to hurt anyone, but if you have a puffskein you'd better keep it out of their sights. My last one was used for bludgeor practice."

Harry scrunched up his face, "That's evil!"

"It's only a puffskein," Ron countered.

"It's still a thing, like you or me!" Harry said, "You're whole family is mental."

"It is not!"

"Is too!"

But before renewed fisticuffs could begin, Ron squealed and jumped back, Harry saw the creature of contention crawling along the grass. It was a gigantic brown spider, almost the size of Harry's palm. Harry laughed and held out his hand, letting the spider crawl onto it. He held it out to Ron who shrieked like a girl.

"What's the matter, it's just a spider," Harry said.

"Keep it away!" Ron shouted.

"Stop it!" Neville said, "He's scared of them!"

Harry laughed, "I know he's scared, frightened of a tiny little spider! A teensy weensy little spider!"

Harry pushed the spider towards Neville who also cried out in fright.

"Are both of you big fat cowards?" Harry said, "It's only a bug!"

Neville flailed his limbs, dislodging the spider from Harry's hands, sending it flying amongst the grass. Harry noticed it struggling a few feet away, and dashed to rescue it. He cradled the spider who was struggling to right itself, one of it's legs bent.

"It's hurt!" Harry said outraged, "You nearly killed it!"

"Sorry," muttered Neville.

"I'm not sorry," Ron said, "It's a spider."

"A spider?" a voice said behind Harry, "We can't have that, can we little brother!"

A shoe clad foot stomped on the spider, narrowly missing Harry's fingers.

"There you are Ron, your spider troubles are over," another voice chimed in, "Best not to dwell on it, or else you'll be sorted into Hufflepuff."

"Very funny," Ron said.

Harry stared at the still wiggling squished spider organs and limbs, and looked up to see the long legs of a taller boy. He had the distinct Weasley hair, freckles, and was currently smiling in a way that Harry felt was intolerably smug. These were the infamous Puffskein murderers, Harry ascertained, and their newest victim had been his eight legged friend.

"Hullo Harry," the boy said, "I'm Gred and this is my brother Forge. Pleasur-"

Before the boy could finish, Harry had landed a punch directly in the one place he could reach from his vantage point on the ground. Fred, or George, Harry wasn't quite sure which, was now doubled over on the grass, barely able to utter a word.

The other twin laughed, "He hit Fred in the sickle sacks!"

"That's not funny!" Ron shouted.

"Grab him!" Fred managed, still curled on the ground.

George and Ron scrambled to go after Harry, Ron nearly grabbed him but Harry landed a punch on Ron's stomach that sent him doubling over. George finally wrangled Harry, hoisting him up by his underarms. Harry screamed, and kicked, biting all the while.

"He's like a wild animal!" George merrily exclaimed.

Fred had managed to stagger to his feet, "It's a good thing he's so skinny, he might be able to do some damage otherwise. Now let's see about a bit of retaliation."

On the ground, a small spider teetered on the edge of the grass. Fred quickly snapped it up and held it out in front of Harry.

"All this noise for a spider," Fred said, sighing, "it's really not worth it."

He began pulling the legs off, one by one, Harry's screams became more frantic.

"Let's see how it does with three legs, oh oops! It fell over," Fred had nabbed up the spider again after it's failed attempt at running away, "I suppose I should kill it."

Harry shrieked in dismay when Fred crushed it right between his hands.

"There we are," Fred said, separating his palms, "No need to make so much noise, you still have your friend."

Fred smeared the dead spider on Harry's cheeks, who took that moment to try and kick George in the shins.

Fred laughed at him, "He's got to be taught that kicking another boy like that is not on."

Neville had retreated to the edge of the overgrown shrubs, his eyes widening as he watched the goings on, as Harry struggled frantically and fruitlessly against his captors. Harry was near hysterical now, crying and fighting, his skin turning red from exertion and panic.

"Stop it!" Neville screamed, "You're all horrible!"

Ron stared at his friend, "But he's the one that started it!"

"You're torturing him! I can't stand it!" Neville cried.

George had dropped Harry to the ground, who frantically wiped his face to remove the bits of spider. Neville ran over to him, his concern evident.

"Are you all right?" Neville asked.

"Shut up!" Harry screamed, "You're all evil and wrong!"

Neville appeared quite shocked, staggering backwards.

"And you're the worst of all," Harry gasped from the sobs that had his ribs heaving, "Stupid and a coward! I wish you'd died like your dad!"

Harry had realized that everyone had gone quite silent, and stared at him agog. Neville let out a shuddering sob and ran towards the house.

"You're the evil one!" Ron shouted, and took off towards Neville.

Harry was gulping in air in deep breaths, his vision blurry from so many tears. He hadn't really meant to say that at the time, but he'd meant it with every fiber of his being. If it weren't for Neville his Dad wouldn't have to leave so much, maybe his Mum wouldn't be in tears all the time. Everything revolved around You Know Who, and while Harry was glad such an evil person was dead, he hated the circumstances. A helpless little baby killing You Know Who, who grabbed up all the attention for himself without even trying. Neville was a baby, an idiot. He admitted it himself that he hadn't done a single thing to warrant all of the praise.

Harry sniffled and glared at the twins before running off into the woods.

"Wait!" He heard George's voice call after him.

"Just leave him, George," Fred said, "if he wants to be a crybaby-"

"It's dangerous," George countered, "you know what Mum will say."

Harry didn't care about their concern, or about their Mum. He was tearing through the forest, the brambles catching on his knobby knees, scratching against his skin. He ran further and faster then he'd ever run before, until he couldn't see the trails that led back to the Weasley's house, deep into the woods so that none of the red headed boys could find him.

When Harry was winded, he found himself standing on a cliff overlooking a rushing river. He wiped his face, and stopped his haggard breaths. He made a seat out of a rock, and toyed with a few blades of grass. It was nice in the forest, quiet and calm but without anyone around or anything to do, Harry quickly found himself bored. He heard rustling from the river below and leaned over to see what kind of animal had come to visit.

"What a weird dog," he said, observing the limping animal, its fur scruffy and mangled.

Harry wanted to get a closer look, perhaps in all his reading he had missed this particular creature. He ran to the lower overhang of the cliff, and slid his chest and arms over it. He could see the creature clearly here, and noticed its bulging eyes and bent teeth. It was panting, as though it were injured.

"Are you all right?" Harry said, outstretching his hand "Are you hurt?"

Harry had always wanted a dog, or any animal at all, magical or mundane. His Mum unfortunately was allergic, and Harry himself had a problem with cats. It didn't stop him from asking for an animal every birthday. Perhaps Harry could convince his parents to take it home, if the dog were hurt. But when the dog's eyes met his, Harry realized it wasn't a dog at all but something else entirely.

He could see snake-like slits glowing red in his mind's eyes, the dog distorting, bending until the long limbs of a man appeared. Harry felt a strange sort of blankness, as though all of his memories had just bled out of him. He couldn't remember why he was there in the forest, his name, or even his parents; his very life had vanished to be replaced by the existence of a stranger, pale and serpentine. Watching him with red, eerie eyes.

"Harry!"

His chest slipped against the rocks and grass and he slowly began to slide off the edge of the cliff. Strong arms wrapped around him and he was pulled back up, before he could plummet into the dark rushing water below.

"Goodness Harry," the red headed man said, "What in the world were you doing, hanging over a ledge like that?"

It was Arthur Weasley, Molly's husband who had pulled him back from the cliff. Harry blinked and rubbed his eyes, he couldn't quite remember what he had been doing, if anything at all.

"Dunno," he said, then a flash of an image hit him, "There was a dog down there, it looked like it was hurt."

Arthur peered over the ledge but there was nothing there, only dead trees, big logs, and a lot of leaves.

"Well, it's certainly not there now," Arthur said, "Come on, let's get you home and all cleaned up."

Harry was reluctantly led through the woods back to the Weasley burrow, his mood grim and countenance surly. He saw Ron and Neville in the backyard, though only Neville stopped his playing and watched him, warily. Harry preferred the silent treatment, he was quite content to be ignored. Arthur brought him upstairs to the bathroom, and directed him to sit on the edge of bathtub. Harry did so, kicking his legs a bit while he watched Arthur rummage through the medicine cabinet.

"It may sting a bit," Arthur said, holding out his wand, "Are you ready?"

Harry gave his consent, and the skin around his skinned knees and scratched up legs smarted before closing up completely.

"There we are," Arthur said, "All patched up. Now, can you tell me Harry what you were doing in the woods? It's not a place a little boy should wander alone."

"I ran away," Harry said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Why did you run away, Harry," Arthur asked.

He said the question with such tired sincerity that Harry felt compelled to answer truthfully.

"Because Fred squashed a spider and then I hit him in the sickle sacks, then Ron and Neville were mean. And then George grabbed a hold of me, and Fred squashed another spider and put it on my face, so I yelled at them and left," Harry said, in a single breath.

Arthur regarded Harry with an extraordinary amount of confusion. He opened his mouth, then closed it, and then shaking his head slightly, could only smile.

"I see," he said, "Well, it will be quite some time before your parents come and get you. Do you like to read Harry? I can set you up in Percy's room. He's gone to a friends for a few days, as long as you promise not to be rough with his things you're welcome to them."

Harry sighed, his breath flinging his messy hair into his eyes, "I promise, I'll be good."

"I believe you," Arthur said.

It was a very decent room, tidier then everywhere else Harry noticed, with the items older boys liked. Less toys, more books and a record player that had seen much better days, but it was certainly an improvement from the absolute chaos that seemed to reign downstairs.

Arthur hummed at the shelf, "I'm not sure how much is here that a little boy would like."

"I can read anything," Harry said, boastfully, "But I do like magical creatures."

Arthur seemed to take his statement as an amusing challenge.

"Is that so?" Arthur said, picking up a thick looking book, "Then how about we read some of this together."

They read together, Arthur was very surprised that Harry could read a book meant for third years at Hogwarts. But soon enough Molly was at the door, and Arthur excused himself to speak with his wife. She did not look pleased that Harry was sitting on her older son's bed flipping through one of his books but she didn't say anything about it. Harry tried to be as incognito as possible, attempting to disappear behind the large textbook. It was perhaps better that he didn't listen to the frantic sound of Mrs. Weasley's voice right outside his door.

Quite a few hours later, after a humiliating confrontation between parents and a lot of tears, Harry was finally at home in his pajamas eating a bowl of ice cream. His father sat at the table with him, carefully observing his every move, while his mother fretted and Padfoot made his opinion known.

"No one at that age," Padfoot said, "should be subjected to Fred and George Weasley."

"Sirius," Lily said, "Harry has to learn to get along with other children."

"Not necessarily those other children," James said, "And not anytime soon. One traumatic adventure was enough."

"I'm not traumatized," Harry said, continuing to shovel the ice cream into his mouth, it was good, he hadn't been able to bring himself to eat until now.

"Course you're not," James said fondly, ruffling Harry's hair, "you've been very brave, going out into the woods all by yourself."

"Which," Lily smartly replied, "you shouldn't have done! Harry, those woods are dangerous. It's a wizarding woods, there are magical creatures everywhere. If you were in trouble, you should have found ."

"I know all about magical creatures," Harry mumbled from behind his spoon.

"He did make it out alive," Sirius said, "without getting eaten by anything."

Lily did not look very pleased with Sirius' input on the subject and graced him with a very strong glare.

"Besides," Harry said, "Mrs. Weasley doesn't like me."

James was surprised, "Harry, what in the world would make you think that?"

"She was angry," Harry said, "And she shouted, even when Ron called me names."

Lily sighed, "Harry, tell your father what you said to Mrs. Weasley before Sirius and I arrived."

Harry swirled his spoon around the empty bowl, "I said she was fat. And that her house smelled."

A slight wheezing noise was heard in Sirius' direction as he desperately tried to cover his laughter behind his hand. James was also biting his lip, while trying to remain stern about the situation.

"Harry, that wasn't very nice," James managed, "or accurate."

"The proper term is big boned," Sirius helpfully supplied.

The look Harry's mum was shooting the two friends could have wilted flowers.

"She called me a hellion," Harry sulked, "And an- an instigator. I don't even know what that means."

"It means she thinks you started it," Sirius said, "Which is obviously a fallacy."

"Of course I didn't start it," Harry insisted, "Ron did."

"Harry," Lily sighed, "It doesn't matter who started it. You attacked two boys, and they retaliated. They were wrong, but it was also wrong to upset them. You have to do what's right in these situations."

"What if I don't want to," Harry said, his eyes filling up with water, "they tortured it. It was a helpless spider, why's it wrong to try and save it?"

"Oh, Harry," Lily said, "It was just a bug, it's not a person. Not the way little boys are."

Harry's sniffling became catastrophic, "Why don't you understand!" he cried.

He leaped from the table, hurling his bowl and spoon to the floor. His footsteps pounded on the steps, with an accentuated loudness. They all winced when the door slammed, and all three rose from the table at once.

"Don't worry about it," Sirius said, "let me go. You've both had a rough day, and I'm a fresh face in all this mess."

Lily and James returned to their seats, James leaning his his head on one hand, his face pale and drawn from tiredness.

"I'll admit I don't quite understand it," Lily said, "I can't see how a person could be less important than an animal."

"That's just it, Lils," James says, "To a kid who spends most of their time off on their own, it might as well be a real person. It's as good as one, for all the comfort it provides. I remember a paper bird that my old Uncle Balazar made for me. A little flying paper bird, just something he folded up and animated for me one morning, without another thought. Well, old Balazar was a relic when I was a babe, so he didn't last much longer. But that little paper bird, it became sort of a friend to me, took on a personality of its own. Something happened to it, I don't even remember now, I lost it or it just crumbled away after a long enough time – I mourned that little bird like a real person."

"I suppose it's just like his imaginary friend," Lily says, "That ghost he says lives with us."

"Ghosts are a little more morbid than paper birds," James admits, "But at least no one can squash a ghost."

"That's very true," Lily says, "though I wish he'd make some real friends."

"He will in Hogwarts," James replies, "Gryffindor is a friendly house."

"I think you're counting your eggs before they hatch," Lily says primly, "The amount he reads I bet we'll have a Ravenclaw on our hands."

"Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff," James said, "Doesn't matter to me, as long as he's happy."

"I notice you did leave one house out of that equation," Lily said wryly.

"You'd best believe it," James said, a grin splitting across his face.

Lily smile is light, but her heart is heavy. She can't help but think of an old friend, and she suddenly wonders what would happen to Harry if he were sorted into Slytherin. But James mischievous smile brings to mind the same look on Harry's childish face, and she can't help but feel just a little bit relieved. They're so much alike, there's no doubt in her mind that Harry will be all right.


End file.
